


Artificial Isolation

by ninjakitty



Series: The LWA Zone [2]
Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Sci-fi/Futuristic AU, Slow Burn, TAGS WILL BE EDITED AS STORY PROGRESSES!, but I set the angst bar high last time and I’ve gotta top it ;), but we focusing on some new characters this time, enemy redemption arc, snippets of fluff, tw’s included by chapter, younger characters have been aged up to their 20’s, yup it’s the androids again!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjakitty/pseuds/ninjakitty
Summary: Earth, year 3040. Croix has never been particularly bothered with her lack of friends; she’s always been happier in her workshop, engineering humankind’s latest advancements in tech. But when the reclusive scientist has a breakthrough, she winds up with a creation that will rock the whole world… especially her own.A prequel, continuation, parallel (and contains spoilers for, though this can read as a stand-alone) Lonely Before You. Chapter specific warnings included.
Relationships: Atsuko "Akko" Kagari/Amanda O'Neill, Diana Cavendish & Amanda O'Neill, Diana Cavendish & Atsuko "Akko" Kagari, Ursula Callistis | Chariot du Nord/Croix Meridies
Series: The LWA Zone [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982536
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Artificial Isolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Depersonalization, in a freaky ghost-in the machine type sense; brief, backstory-level death mention

**;------------------------------------------------------------**

**.286 ; CPU type ALPHA**

**;------------------------------------------------------------**

**.model URSLA ; memory of model**

**;---------------------- EXTERNS -----------------------------**

**extrn _BootMain:near ; prototype of C func**

**;------------------------------------------------------------**

**;------------------------------------------------------------**

**.code**

**org 07c00h ; for BootSector**

**main:**

**jmp short start ; go to main**

**nop**

**sti**

**call _BootMain**

**; start program**

**ENTER COMMAND**

**C:\ >**

**Admin >Run Startup**

**> **

**> **

**BIOS Date: 20/02/3040 23:41:02 Ver: 01.32.13**

**Select Proper Boot Device**

**C:\ >**

**Admin >Enter**

**> **

**> **

**> **

**Device recognized**

**Press DEL to Run Setup**

**Admin >DEL**

**> **

**Accessing Settings**

**>**

** >Standard CMOS Features >Advanced BIOS Features**

** >Advanced Chipset Features >Integrated Peripherals**

** >Power Management Setup >PnP/PCI Configurations**

** >Device Health Status >Frequency/Voltage Control**

** >Load Fail-Safe Defaults >Load Optimized Defaults**

**C:\ >**

**Admin >F10//save&quit**

**> **

**> **

**Initializing**

**Checking NVRAM...**

**95TB OK**

**Auto-Detecting Pri Master..ADMN Ext. System**

**Auto-Detecting Pri Slave..URSLA Main Drive**

**Auto-Detecting Sec Master..URSLA Unit**

**Auto-Detecting Sec Slave..Not Detected**

**PriM:1.2 Ext. System PriS:2.1 Drive SecM:1.1 Unit**

**Establishing Unit Connection**

**> **

**> **

**> **

**Connection Established**

**Accessing External Operating Systems**

**Bringing Systems Online**

**> **

**> **

**> **

**Systems Online**

Ursula opened her eyes.

The surrounding room, at least, was easy. White walls, grey laminate floor, with shiny metal machines and other assorted equipment hanging quietly powered-down on the walls and from the ceiling on solid looking cords. There were a few steel platforms, covered in tools and scattered parts. An empty styrofoam cup of ramen lay tipped over on one, leftover broth dripping onto the floor.

 _Workroom_ , her database supplied helpfully. _Laboratory._

Which would make the thing sitting a bit off to the side of her the… scientist? _Scientist._

_Human._

This one was a bit trickier to categorize. Ursula tilted her head, a small whir accompanying the motion, assessing.

The human looked back at her impassively, sitting on its stool across from her and paused halfway through messing around with something ( _Computer_ ) on the table. With a sigh, it pushed back its stool with a slow screech, getting up to walk over to the workbench where Ursula was sitting.

It was… short, maybe around her height ( _170cm_ ,) with pale skin and thin features, wiry frame mostly hidden under a baggy jumpsuit. The dark suit was unzipped down the front, the loose fabric partially obscuring the name stitched on the left side and revealing a stained tank-top underneath, similar smudges streaking its forearms up to where the jumpsuit was rolled past the elbow. There was a pair of round welding goggles pushed up into a shock of short hair… her schema hadn’t included lilac as a natural pigment in human follicle growth. ( _System updated_.)

“Okay,” the human said, standing in front of her with crossed arms. ( _Bored_. _Resigned._ ) “Let’s try this again. Good morning, Ursula, how are you today.”

 _[“Fine thanks, how are you?”]_ her database prompted.

“Fine thanks, how are you?” she asked hesitantly. The human ( _Female_ , her database finally decided. _Butch_.) raised an eyebrow, waiting. Ursula stayed silent, not sure what the woman wanted from her.

After a minute staring at each other, the woman sighed, looking unsurprised. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” She started to walk away, pulling out a small recording device and clicking it on. “Test two-seventeen failed, there must still be an issue with frontal processing…”

“Are there other colors?” Ursula blurted. The other woman paused, the gloved hand holding the recorder going still.

“Sorry?”

“Your hair. That color wasn’t… are there other humans with hair that grows like yours?”

Slowly, the woman turned around, an odd expression on her face as she seemed to really focus on Ursula for the first time. She looked at the recorder, then back at Ursula, then back at the recorder, like she wasn’t sure what to do.

Suddenly she laughed, reaching up with her other hand to tug on a forelock. “You mean this? This isn’t grown, it’s dyed. Can’t believe I forgot to program the fun colors into you.”

“Dyed…” Ursula said slowly. “So, not natural?”

“Bingo,” the woman confirmed. ( _System updated_.) “Hey, mind if I ask you a few questions now? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Four,” Ursula answered instantly. Her database prickled a little at the topic change, reorienting.

“Now?”

“Two.”

“Now?”

“Three.”

“Hold this for a sec,” the woman said, handing the recorder to Ursula, who took it automatically. She then moved her right hand in front of the three fingers, hiding them, palm facing Ursula. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Which hand?”

A pleased look flashed across the woman’s face. “Left.”

“Three, unless you changed it.”

“No that’s right. That’s object permanence then… when you look at my hand, what do _I_ see?”

“…the… three fingers?”

“Right! What were the previous numbers of the fingers I held up?”

“Four, two, three.”

“Reverse order?”

“Three, two, four.”

“What’s the first thing you remember?”

Ursula blinked. Her database prickled.

_The surrounding room, at least, was easy. White walls, grey laminate floor…_

“This room.”

“How many times have you seen this room?”

_The surrounding room, at least, was easy. White walls, grey laminate floor…_

_The roo̸̡͇͊̎͘m, at least, was easy. White walls, grey lamina̵̡̲̙̤͊̔̂̉̀͊͑̚t̶̫̩͓͇̳̖͓͕̜̦̣͊͗͑͋̓͘ė̶̹͓̈̉͋͛̿͊̇̓͌̄̅̋ floor…_

_The r̴̨̩̯͙͌̋͛̅͘͝ǒ̶̢͔͙̹͕̉̐̊͑̂͛̔̐̊̂͜͠o̶̔͜m̵̛̥͚̗̰͇̟̿̍̽̈́̚, at leą̵̺̱̬̘͔͖̃͒̔͋̓̉s̸̼̼͌̓̐̊̂̋͑͒̊̈́͒͝t̴͛̂̊͜,̸̜͆͛̅͋̕͝͝ ̵̑͊̿̔̿̆̇̿̎͛̚͠ě̸̮̥̼̟̟̠͛̌̓̉̎͌͋̏̚͜ͅả̶͙͔̖͈̞̹̋͑͋s̷̛̰̟̄̋̉͗̽͊̊̂̈́̄̚y. W̶̢̧̧̙̗̻̝̱̺̺̪̳̙̎̇̅͋͋̐̓͐̋̐h̵͔͑̄i̵̡̱͎̍̓͆͌̑̚͝t̴̆̄̍͌͘͝e̵̢̧̼͉͕͎͔̩̦̠͓̩̓̀̋̄͊̔̏͒̔ ̶̧̛̛̣̜̯̄͒̂̆̂̄̐̚w̸̡̥͉̳̠̙̠̟̺̅͗̀̏̃̑͠ alls, grey f̵͚̭͐͛̈́̂̏͌l̷̛̲̪͒̽́͆̅͐͊o̸̢̡̡̯̗̞̲͉̞̙̽̉ơ̸̫̼͈̜̍͊̇̌̐̂͑̓̄͊̅̍̚r̵̡̭̥̥̻̆̌̊̔̚͜͠͝…_

_W̷̨̗̮̠̖͖̪̞̆̍̃̈̚͜h̶̗̹͆̈́̒̓i̴̛͖̗̹̫͖͍̠̣͖̗͍̹͗̐̔̆t̶̢̢͐ẽ̶̦͍̾̊̏͗̑͐̆̌̑̅̐̚̕͝ ̵̨̡̩̤̲̜̻̓̾̉̑̂͊̽͋̀̾̅͝w̷̼̳̬̩͔̥͌̽͊̐̎̉͘a̴̱̮͕̼͆͐l̸̢͖̱̟̭͌̅̌̏̏̚͠͝͠l̴̦̠͔̟̟̪̙͓̙̖̞̜̫̟̓̏͑̆̓͂͂̐̿̅̔̀̐͝s̷̢̢̭̬̙̯̱͐̍̓͝,̸̡̢̠̩͈̦̳͎͙̲̙̪̺͓̲͒͆͑̉ ̷̧̟̫̬͊g̷̨̜͖̳̣͚̘̩͇͓̟͔͎̦̪̊̿́̓͌̉͘ŗ̴̢̛̛̖̜͔͓̼̰̲̙̫̙͇̐̄͂̔̐̑͒͛e̸͍̜̟͖̺̜͕͔̘̐̓̄̏͒̈́͊͂̚̚͜͝͝y̸̢̤̯̗̞͇̍̿͜ͅ ̷̗̫̭̞̜͔̋͌̇̓̓́͊̆͒̍͊̕͠f̴̡̗̥̱͍̰̘̩̥͎̞͑̿͋͜ͅͅl̷̊̇́̕͝o̷͍̊́́̿̇͝ȯ̸͕̘̭͈̩̈́͛̍͗͊͑̀͑̚͝ṙ̸̨̻͓͚̩̼̣̭̣̯̻̰̓͌̆̄͌̏̎̚͘.̶̛̭̲̾̍́́̔̑͜͝͝.̸̼̯̥͉̪͉̐̓̀̒̽͐̌.̵̛͚͎̮̥̥̭͎͍͎̻͉͎͚͚͛̒̅̈̐͑͛̽̍͂̑͘_

“Ow!”

“Did that hurt?”

“Wha- you pinched me, of course it hurt.” The woman was somehow sitting in front of her now, the stool putting her at eye level. Ursula’s head was. Weird.

It. _Felt_ weird. _She_ felt weird.

_(System updated.)_

“What’s wrong with me?” The woman gently pried the recorder out of Ursula’s hand, who hadn’t even noticed she was clutching it hard enough bite red lines into her skin. Making a partially wounded noise under her breath, the woman checked the recorder over for damage, before clicking it back on.

“Ursula unit appears to have no record of previous activations, despite rudimentary preliminary testing showing functional neurophysiology up to and possibly surpassing the concrete operational stage. Note: examine long term memory storage. Unit has expressed two instances of spontaneous engagment with its environment outside programmed parameters, the most recent showing promising signs of self-awareness. More testing to follow. What made you ask about my hair?”

It took Ursula a second to realize that the last question was even directed at her. “My… database didn’t tell me why your hair was that color.”

She frowned. That didn’t feel like the right answer, somehow, but she wasn’t sure why.

A small wrinkle formed between the woman’s eyebrows. “You think of the database as separate? Odd. I mean I guess that’s not bad, but…” The woman leaned back thoughtfully, stool creaking. “Good morning, Ursula, how are you today?”

 _[“Fine thanks, how are you?”]_ her database prompted.

“Fine thanks, how are you?” Ursula repeated automatically, immediately clapping a hand over her mouth. Her head throbbed.

“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered through her fingers. ( _Scared_ )

“Nothing! You’re working perfectly fine, better than fine,” the woman said, beaming at her with a mouth full of teeth, a jag of lightning across her face, bright and a little. ( _Terrifying._ ) “I mean there’s still a lot of work to be done, you seem to be glitching some in the processing department, and you’re not emoting nearly as much as I expected, but a little more testing should help me…”

A loud ringing suddenly filled the room and the woman cursed, digging into her back pocket.

“Dammit Daryl, you’re going to pull this now?” She scowled as her phone went silent, jabbing it harshly as it lit up a second time, somehow ringing even more shrilly. “Alright, Ursula, that’s gonna be it for now, but I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

“O…kay?” Ursula said uncertainly, as the woman finally silenced her phone and stood up, cricking her neck once with a quick pop and rolling her shoulders. Ursula’s stomach felt heavy and dark as she watched the woman crossed back over to the computer terminal ( _Fear_.) “What are you doing?”

“Gotta shut you off babe, don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing,” the woman ( _Scientist)_ said dismissively, and a flash of purple caught Ursula’s eye as the scientist ( _Fear̷̳͉̹̥͊͒̕͠͝_ ) leaned far enough forward over the keyboard ( _Ḟ̵̺͘͠e̶̝̜̍̈̆ā̷̟͙̕r̵̺̰̘͊́̋̾,_ ) that the fabric of her jumpsuit shifted, the name stitched on finally visible enough to read.

 _Croix M. Cavendish_.

“Sleep well, Ursula.”

_S̶̘͈͚͇̜̝̫͔̗͍̯͛̓̍̅̒͂̇̍̌͛͘͝͝h̸̛͙͎̳̿̃̒̇͑̆̄̀̒̚͘͜͠͠ų̴̗̫̻̪͇͉̰̒t̸͙͔͈̦̯͈̝̲̘̥̠̪̳̖͈̣̽̈̎ ̵̗͑̓̈́̋͌̒̅͘͜d̵̯͕̤̪͈̗͓̟̜͙̱̐͜o̵̲̫͇͙̯̝͚̭̝̰͚͑͒͋̔͂̽̿̔̾̾͌͜͜w̴̨̢̙͎͎͚͔͎̟͙͔̭͖̥̖̺̉̅̔̕ň̸̡̛͇̝͚̥͋̊̀̓͝ͅ,̴̨̨͇̫̹̪̙̺̣͙̺̹̹̼̮̹̽̌̄̉͛̽͋͠ ̶̺̗̊̅͂͑̆͂̈́͘̕̚ͅ **F̴̳̲̦̝̼̀͗̃͋͌̅͑́͑͂̽̚͝͝͝E̶̘͍͕͉̠̗̙͓̙̯̞̥̺̜̔̏̃̂̈́͑̉̏̎̓̚͘Å̸̮͇͖̭͕̣̺̯̿̓̓́̍̿̀̆͝ͅR̵̳̤̼̲̖͂̏̋͌̇͐̋**_

Croix hit a button, and

**Systems Offline.**

**> **

**> **

**ENTER COMMAND**

**C:\ >**

**Admin >Shutdown**

**> **

**>**

**> **

**> **

**> **

***

Croix was bored out of her goddamn mind.

She didn’t even want to be here. But, of course, the night she’s had her first breakthrough in years, she’s stuck at a _gala_ of all things.

The ballroom is huge, glittery and polished, deep navy curtains shot through with silver falling from the high ceiling in elegant arches to dome the extravagance below like the night sky. A live band was playing in the center of the room, dancers orbiting around them in colorful swirls, heavenly bodies in motion. The air was filled with the thrum of strings and chatter, the latter creeping closer than Croix would like. She was doing her best not to get drawn in by the gravity of societal obligation, but she could feel it tugging, and she was rapidly running out of reasons to remain tucked off to the side where she could at least get a moment to breathe. The snacks she plundered from the nearby appetizer table would only last so long as a valid excuse.

But hell if those tiny bread and cheese things weren’t almost worth it.

She was weighing the risk of ditching before the formal dinner and just smuggling as much food as she could carry back up to her lab –made harder by the fact that her suit had the _shallowest_ fucking pockets, she made a mental note to fix those later— over how much she’d get chewed out later. It’d be worth it, if she could get in another hour’s work on Ursula’s core processing, maybe see if she could streamline the code to handle whatever was making Ursula glitch out at certain questions. Her motor control could also use a bit more refinement, and Croix was even toying with the idea of re-coloring the hair… didn’t she have an old box of blue lying around somewhere..?

“Impersonating a wallflower again, Auntie?”

The teasing tone pulled Croix out of her thoughts, and she looked up at the approaching figure, quickly swallowing her mouthful of crumbs.

“’Auntie,’ really? Brat, you’re just glad I’m not making you call me Professor anymore.”

“Alas, you no longer have jurisdiction.” Diana Cavendish smiled, gliding to a stop with a precise click of her heels, and Croix snorted.

“Brat,” she muttered, a bit more fondly, and then in a louder voice, “You enjoying your party?”

Diana nodded, resplendent in her silver-white dress uniform, a tasteful homage to the old suits used back when humankind first journeyed into the cold vastness of space. “It was lovely of you to throw this for me, thank you.”

Croix actually laughed out loud at that. “Daryl put all this together and you know it. I just chipped in a little and signed my name at the bottom of the card she bought. But hey, you deserve a celebration… Captain.”

Croix tweaked the shiny nebula on Diana’s collar, knocking the blooming wings of the butterfly-like explosion of kilter, and Diana huffed, hand reaching up automatically to straighten the silver pin.

“Really, Auntie, you don’t need to make a point of it, I’m getting plenty of praise tonight.”

“Oh stuff the modesty for a minute. Listen kiddo, graduating out of the Academy as a Captain isn’t unheard of, but it’s definitely hard to do in less than nine years and you’re _definitely_ the youngest person to pull it off as far as I know, so you can take the night to gloat a little before you have to get all serious about it, alright? Hell,” Croix cracked a grin, “what’s most impressive is how you even managed to get the highest score I gave out that year, and I taught a bitch of a class.”

“Ship Repair for Dummies,” Diana recalled fondly, eyes crinkling in the corners at the memory. “You wouldn’t let me round up to an A-, even though I was a half a percentage off; it was the lowest grade I received my entire five years.”

“And you earned every stingy point, you miserable perfectionist,” Croix retorted, startling a laugh out of Diana and oh, she looked so much like Bern just then.

“Kiddo, I know she’s not here for you like she’d want to be,” Croix said softly. “But your mom would be so proud of you.”

Diana ducked her head quickly at that, but not quick enough to hide the shine of tears. Croix reached out, pulling her niece into a hug.

“ _There_ you are, I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you two… oh for heaven’s sake, Croix, _what_ are you doing, you’re going to wrinkle your suits!”

Croix groaned quietly, and in her arms she felt Diana shake with silent laughter as Croix reluctantly pulled herself away. She would not whine in front of her niece, _she would not whine in front of her niece…_

“Really Croix, I expect this sort of antisocial behavior out of you, but you shouldn’t be dragging Diana away like this, this is her chance to make _connections_.”

“Hello to you too sister dearest, I was _just_ telling Diana how much I missed the sweet sound of your voice,” Croix said, bright with forced enthusiasm. Diana delicately coughed into her fist, smothering a laugh.

“Oh please don’t blame her Aunt Daryl, I merely wanted a moment to thank her for her contribution to this wonderful evening you’ve put together for me.” As Daryl began to purse her lips Diana looked around, attention seemingly caught by someone at the other end of the room. “Ah, I do believe that is Admiral Fafnir, I really must thank him for attending, if you would excuse me…”

 _Traitor,_ Croix mouthed around Daryl as Diana deftly slid her way around them, and Diana shot her a wink before quickly making her escape.

Reluctantly, Croix turned back to her sister.

“You have grease on your face,” Daryl grumbled, reaching up and scrubbing at Croix cheek.

“Thanks, Daryl, really, but don’t you have better things to do?” Croix snapped, batting uselessly at the handkerchief rubbing off what she swore was a whole layer of skin.

Daryl huffed, pulling back to examine her face critically. “Honestly, you think you’d be more grateful… you’d still be holed up in that workshop if I hadn’t dragged you down here tonight.”

“Don’t I wish,” Croix muttered.

“You should really be taking advantage of tonight! Diana isn’t the only one who could use some connections.”

“I practically have tenure, I don’t need any more ‘connections.’” 

“Really, Croix,” Daryl said, tone wavering somewhere between disappointment and disgust, “you know you only took the position to get those grants, and what are you doing with them? Wasting your time, hiding in your lab, and you’ve made, what, shinier ships?”

Croix gritted her teeth. “It’s a hyper-reflective alloy _specifically_ designed to be even more effective at blocking solar radiation, with only _half_ the weight and _twice_ the durability…”

“Worthless,” Daryl interrupted. She folded her handkerchief, tucking it into her purse. She rummaged for a second, pulling out a small compact. “How do you expect to get anything out of life when all you do is sit around playing with spaceships?”

“Oh I’m _sorry_ , Ms. I-Own-the-Biggest-StarCruise-Line-in-the-Fucking-Galaxy, it must be sooo embarrassing having a little sister who’s working on the actual ships your clients use. You didn’t even _graduate_ from Luna Nova.”

“Well I’m sorry Bernadette _died_ , Croix!” 

Her last few words were almost a shriek, and Croix could hear a few mutters directed their way, and she, okay, she felt a little bad about that one. But she wasn’t going to apologize.

Daryl seemed to realize she was causing a scene, taking a few breaths before flipping the compact open, going back to fixing her lipstick.

“Someone had to keep her feet on the ground and take care of the family,” Daryl said quietly, most of the venom drained from her voice. “Even Beatrix needed someone back home while she was out exploring the stars. And _her_ inventions were at least getting her somewhere.”

She snapped her compact closed with a decisive snap.

“If you’re going to spend all your time tinkering, you might as well try and get some investors involved, make some money… I’m sure you’ve come up with something at least _amusing_. Oh look, there’s Anne, she’s wonderful about finding all the best projects to support, _Anne_ dear,” she called, lipstick and mirror vanishing back into her bag as she hooked an arm through Croix’s, towing them both into the chaos of the ballroom before Croix could even protest, “have I introduced you to my baby sister yet? I’m sure you’ll get along _fabulously_ …”

Croix resigned herself to spending the rest of the night trapped in conversation, and also probably her sister’s vice-like grip. As Daryl dragged her across the ballroom, still chattering excitedly at her newest target, Croix thought about Ursula, sitting quiet and waiting back up in her lab.

 _Just amusing_? _Oh Daryl_ , _I can’t_ wait _to prove you wrong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said that I hopefully wouldn’t take as long writing the sequel? Well… I finished starting it, anyways :P
> 
> So, normally when I write a story, I like to finish the whole thing before I let anyone else read; that’s what I did for LBY. This fic, however, is going to be uhhh a bit longer, and I can’t exactly do that. Unless you want to wait 5 more years. But I’ve been missing working on this, and while I can’t guarantee a steady posting schedule, I can guarantee eventual completion; I’ve had the outline finished for. Awhile now. ^__^
> 
> So! Welcome to Croix’s/Ursula’s story. If you’ve read LBY, you know part of how part of this goes, but you don’t know everything yet. Whether you’re new to the universe or a returning fan, I hope you enjoy. ;)
> 
> Like last time, tags will be added by individual chapter, please let me know if I need to add or clarify any.


End file.
